


please, just remember, forever and always

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Car Accident, Established Relationship, F/F, Injury, Parent Death, Pitch Perfect - Freeform, Pitch Perfect 1, Strangers to Lovers, Time Travel, pedestrian accident
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28862025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Things are so perfect between Beca and Chloe; they really couldn’t be more perfect, especially following their newest development. Until one night, anyway.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 29
Kudos: 58





	please, just remember, forever and always

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this fic is very angsty, and that the first half of this chapter is very much the calm before the storm. You will notice I did not include a 'major character death' warning, so do with that what you will (I promise I would've included it if that was the case). If angst is not your thing, that's absolutely fine, but I would advise against reading if it's not for you.
> 
> Fic title from Parachute's _Forever and Always_.

While the very idea of driving anywhere tonight is highly unappealing to Chloe, she has to admit that it beats the entirely draining thought of the effort required to cook; even more so that of the consequent kitchen clean-up afterwards. Besides, Chloe is in a good mood this evening—honestly, Chloe is always in a good mood, but notably even more so than usual lately—so when Beca had requested her favorite Panera order for dinner, Chloe hadn’t put up anything even resembling a fight. It is Friday, the work week is through, and Chloe is excited about the prospect of curling up on the two-seater couch after dinner with her favorite person, with absolutely no obligations awaiting her the next morning.

It is not like they are ever anything less than great in general, of course, but things at home really have been incredible lately. In fact, Chloe would dare to go so far as to consider them _perfect_. She and Beca, their quiet, comfortable life together, it is all so perfect, and Chloe basks in the utter contentment she feels as she rolls her trusty Prius into their small driveway, large Panera bag resting in the passenger seat, and buzzes with the sheer thrill of blissful domesticity awaiting her directly through the door.

Although a neatly shaped brow lifts in initial response to the sight she walks into, it takes about half a second for Chloe’s bottom lip to tug gently between her teeth, and she finds herself biting back the wide grin threatening to burst its way forward.

“One of those nights, huh?” Chloe chuckles softly. If the instant yelp she hears from inside of the meticulously built pillow fort in the middle of their compact living room is anything to go by, her presence apparently stuns Beca.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she hears Beca’s muffled response drifting from inside. It precedes a light shuffle, followed by the rustle of sheets, before a slightly red-faced Beca emerges from within the pillow-stacked cave.

“This is why I, specifically, had to go grab dinner,” Chloe says, a statement more so than a question. Her brow begins to work its way upward again as she balances the paper bag onto the arm of the couch, though there is something of a smug grin easing onto her lips, too. Chloe pouts them outward to accept the greeting peck Beca offers.

Chloe remembers the first time she insisted on them building a pillow fort. Beca had heartily protested, convinced that the entire thing was ‘so dorky’, but Beca had ultimately been the last one to climb out after their evening spent cuddled up together while ignoring a movie playing on Beca’s laptop screen. Pillow forts have kind of been their cute (but still totally dorky, if you were to ask Beca) thing ever since.

“We both had long weeks,” Beca shrugs a shoulder, helpfully taking the two large drinks from the tray balanced in Chloe’s hand, “I just figured we deserved some time to unwind.”

“Mm,” Chloe hums contentedly, her smug expression softening some, though it doesn’t quite melt away entirely yet. “You know I’m not complaining.”

“That’s what I thought,” Beca says with a quick wink—or at least Beca Mitchell’s version of a wink; at twenty-six years old, she still hasn’t quite perfected the simple notion, but Chloe finds it entirely adorable every single time. “Do we need plates?”

“No,” Chloe shakes her head as she begins to shrug off her outdoor jacket, shoes quickly following. Her shoulder length curls dance over her exposed shoulder, tickling the skin. “I think we’re good.”

Bag of food clutched between a balled fist, Beca has already begun to crawl back into the fort, so following a quick, fond roll of her eyes and a breathy chuckle, Chloe wastes no time in ducking in there, too.

Just like usual, Beca’s laptop is positioned in the corner by the entranceway, while the pillows from their double bed cozily line the back wall. Their plush duvet cover stretches out across the carpet, and having learned from previous mistakes, Beca has even set out a towel to catch any fallen food. The thought flashes through Chloe’s mind once more that things between them, _this_ , it really is all so perfect, and she finds herself watching Beca with a lazy smile relaxing onto her lips. It is clear, from the soft blush to spread to Beca’s cheeks in return, coupled with her bashful smile, that she sees it, but she chooses not to comment.

Dinners, impromptu (dorky) date nights like this one, are always highly predictable, though none less enjoyable than the last. As usual, they stream a Netflix show that they both like the look of, but it essentially just serves as mindless background noise for their easily flowing conversation. Chloe glances toward the screen every now and then, but for the most part, she is focused largely on Beca, and once they have finished up with their food, whatever show they had been sort of watching becomes a distant memory to Chloe, thanks to the feeling of Beca’s fingers grasping delicately at her waist in an effort to tug her closer.

“You’re kind of needy tonight, did you know that?” Chloe teases as she shuffles toward her, though she is absolutely not complaining nor protesting. Normally, if either of them is the more clingy of the two, it is decidedly Chloe, so she loves the times that Beca openly displays her affection, too.

“Just love you,” Beca murmurs as she gently nudges her nose to Chloe’s cheek, and Chloe takes the hint from Beca’s tightening grasp at her hip to strategically climb into her lap, until she can duck her head to seek out Beca’s puckered lips with her own.

Slowly, long arms rise to loop comfortably around Beca’s neck, while Beca’s fingers splay across Chloe’s lower back, until she can pull her body more tightly into her own. Despite the distinct flutter of her heart, the feeling Chloe always finds herself filled with when she is close to her girlfriend, she is overcome with an overwhelming sense of calm, too. A sense of serenity, of simply just _being_ , and it is the most natural feeling in the world.

“I love you, too,” Chloe finally responds in a soft voice against Beca’s lips, arms tightening to tug her impossibly closer. And she does; Chloe has loved Beca for so long now, so fully and wholeheartedly. There is nobody else she could ever imagine building a life with the way they have, nobody else she could share her home with and want to be around them, privately and uninterrupted, the way she does with Beca Mitchell.

The familiar feeling of Beca’s tongue pressing delicately through the seam in her lips has Chloe naturally deepening their kiss, her lips parting and head gently tilting to kiss Beca more fully, though the feeling of Beca’s hands grasping at the loose fabric of her shirt has her pulling back until she can connect parted lips to the smooth skin of Beca’s jaw, slow pecks peppering their way down toward the curve of her neck. Chloe can feel Beca shuffling beneath her, registers the loss of warm hands against her body, until a soft palm cradles her cheek, with Beca guiding Chloe’s face upward again, until their lips are easily reconnecting.

And it is so easy for Chloe to get swept away in this, to lose herself so effortlessly in the person who she can say with utter confidence truly is the love of her life. She pulls back only when Beca does, lids fluttering open to lock her comfortable, darkened gaze with her favorite gray-blue.

“I really do love you, Chlo,” Beca whispers in such an intimate, secretive manner, fingertips brushing delicately against Chloe’s cheek where her palm still rests. Chloe notes a slight tremor to her voice, sees the way her chest is rising and falling a little faster. She understands it, though—hers is doing the same.

The corners of Chloe’s lips curl upward into a relaxed smile, head nodding gently in response. “I love you, too,” she says in a tone soft enough to match Beca’s, to cloak them both in a private, protective bubble that is truly all their own.

Although she stares a moment longer, evidently losing herself in Chloe the same way Chloe is with her in return, Beca eventually tips Chloe’s face until she can brush a slow kiss to her lips. Her other arm lifts behind her neck now, two fingers curling around Chloe’s wrist to begin sliding her hand toward Chloe’s. “Will you do something for me?” she murmurs quietly, lips pushing tender kisses to Chloe’s, though they soon begin to drift toward her cheek, and Chloe tilts her face into the coddling feeling.

“Anything,” Chloe responds sincerely, easily seeking out Beca’s hand with her own. She revels in the way Beca’s lips feel against her skin as they brush from her jaw and toward her ear where she drops a lingering peck, takes note of the uncharacteristic way she trembles slightly beneath her. It causes an odd sense of nervousness within her, but it is not an uncomfortable feeling, it is not the kind where Chloe thinks there is anything wrong, or that either is about to retreat.

“Marry me,” she hears Beca whisper so close to her ear that it echoes despite its quiet volume, though it doesn’t quite register to her properly until their fingers lace, and Chloe feels something small and circular pressing into her palm.

“What?” Her voice is still soft as she pulls back from the safety of Beca’s lips pushing to the shell of her ear, though her brows tug slightly, and Chloe feels the way Beca’s fingers close her own around the ring. “Bec, I thought—”

“I know,” Beca cuts her off gently, and despite the slight shake to Beca’s voice, Chloe can hear the sincerity in her tone, she can visibly see how sure she is as she watches her with widened eyes, trying to digest what is happening. “I still think some marriages are stupid. But, I guess I just...never really got it before. I never understood promising my life to somebody, but you’re all I want, Chloe.” While eye contact is easy for Chloe, she knows it is something Beca struggles with. She notes the way Beca’s strong gaze easily holds her own now, though, and Chloe doesn’t even register the way her own eyes have begun to mist over slightly. “I want you, I want us, and I know that I want that forever.” She pauses then, bottom lip sucking in between her teeth, and Chloe watches the undeniable shade of crimson sweeping onto her cheeks. “And if you want to, I really want to get to call you my wife.”

As far as surprises go, this one certainly tops the charts for Chloe. They have discussed marriage before, and despite Chloe’s desire to wed someday, Beca had made her feelings on the matter clear: she isn’t _entirely_ against it, but she has had only bad examples to look up to in the past, so Beca is in no real hurry.

Chloe still doesn’t notice the mist in her glassy eyes, not until she feels a slow tear bubbling over her lid and falling to splash against her cheek. It is of course not a sad tear, though. Quite the opposite, in fact. Teeth sinking gently into her bottom lip, Chloe doesn’t even try to hold back the elated expression rising to her face, and the way her head nods softly answers the question before she even verbally can.

“So, uh…” Beca chuckles awkwardly, but it is clear she is largely holding her breath. “Is that a…” she seems to dare herself to continue, “Yes?”

Chloe’s choked out sob is done through a quiet giggle, and she slips her arm from around Beca’s neck until she can grasp at her rosy cheek, the other hand still clutching the ring sweeping over to rest against the opposite side of her face. “Of course it’s a yes,” she confirms with a much more certain nod of her head, lips immediately seeking out Beca’s. Chloe can feel the way Beca’s shoulders relax, feel the way her mouth arches upward against Chloe’s. “It’s a thousand yeses, Bec.” She speaks against Beca’s lips, and she is almost positive that the tears staining her cheeks now are not solely her own. “Of course I’ll marry you,” Chloe clarifies, voice now dropping to a contented whisper, “I want you... _this_ , I want it forever, too.”

* * *

Chloe is almost positive she will remain floating for the rest of the week… The rest of the _year_ , in fact. Fortunately, the way she breezes around the house throughout the entirety of the next day, dreamily examining her white gold engagement ring every other moment, doesn’t seem to bother Beca. In fact, she simply giggles every time Chloe lets out yet _another_ happy sigh, and Chloe bashfully chews on her bottom lip, but she is sure she won’t be stopping anytime soon.

Via FaceTime call, when Chloe pulls in her bright grin so as not to give anything away beforehand, then holds up the ring in view of the camera, her mother literally screams with excitement, and Chloe hears a faint, _“Thanks, Mrs. Beale!”_ from somewhere else in the house. For the most part, though, Beca leaves them to their conversation.

“Did she ask you?” Chloe’s mother, Alice Beale, asks with bright, widened eyes. “When? How did it happen? Tell me everything.”

Alice is absolutely the person to thank for Chloe’s own inquisitive, vibrant personality, so the rapid fire questions do not come as any kind of a surprise, and Chloe proceeds to detail the evening—of course leaving out the whole _afterwards_ part—much to her mother’s very apparent delight.

“Chloe, I’m so happy for you, sweetheart,” Alice says sincerely, the way the corners of her eyes crinkle lighting up her whole face. Despite the clear sincerity, though, Chloe takes note of the way her smile fades to something of a sad one as she continues. “Your dad would be so proud of you.”

It has not passed Chloe by, the fact that this is yet another milestone her father is missing. With Andrew passing before he even got the chance to see Chloe graduate college, he really has missed out on so many incredible events in Chloe’s life, and the reminder causes her heart to tug in a way that weighs on Chloe like the most uncomfortable lead. “He would?” she asks in a smaller voice, her own sad smile mirroring her mother’s.

“Of course he would,” Alice confirms with a soft nod of her head. “He was so proud of everything you girls did. And I know he would’ve just adored Beca.”

It is not like Chloe doesn’t know it already; her father had always been so openly loving, so overwhelmingly proud of his daughters and everything they did. The confirmation serves as a source of comfort for Chloe, though, and she offers her mother a small nod of her head in return. “Thank you.”

Evidently not wanting to take away from the happy occasion for too long, Alice perks up then, sending Chloe an encouraging smile through the screen. “So, are you going to do anything to celebrate this weekend?”

“Oh,” Chloe perks up now, too. “We are! We’re going to dinner tonight, we’re going to Beca’s favorite restaurant.” She pauses then, voice lowering despite the fact that she is positive Beca is far enough away not to hear her anyway. “I was thinking, I want Beca to have a ring, too. What do you think about me giving her Nanna’s engagement ring?”

Discussing lost family members really ought to bring down the mood, but Chloe tends to look back on those people who are so important to her, who have shaped her life so greatly, with utter fondness, and it seems that Alice shares the sentiment. She responds with a proud smile, and a short nod of her head. “I think that’s a perfect idea, Chloe. I’m sure Nanna would love to be a part of this.”

Chloe’s eyes light up in response, grateful for the encouragement. “I thought so, too.”

* * *

Beca’s favorite restaurant, an independent establishment simply named _Tables_ , is somewhere Chloe likes, too. It has something of a hipster vibe to it, with constant new additions to the menu—something Beca always pretends to peruse, but ultimately ends up ordering the same carbonara every single time anyway—and is decorated with large paintings and ornaments to create a more upscale atmosphere, while still managing to be generally pretty mellow, so it always feels very relaxed when they go.

It is at Tables, Beca waiting on her carbonara while Chloe has opted to try something new, that Chloe presents her with the ring. The band is yellow gold, unlike the one Beca purchased for Chloe, and has tiny diamonds dotted through the center. Grand gestures are really not their thing, hence the perfection of Beca’s simple proposal inside of their very own blanket fort last night, so Chloe doesn’t get down on one knee or anything. She does, however, explain how important the ring is to her, and makes a point of not drawing attention to the unmistakable sheen to Beca’s softened eyes.

The restaurant is close enough to home, the night time weather mild enough, that they opt to walk to and from. Fingers tangled comfortably through Beca’s as they depart, Chloe revels in the quiet serenity of the soft evening breeze, and smiles into the feeling of Beca’s thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.

“I know that it’s not really your style,” Chloe says in reference to the yellow gold ring. “It’s definitely just a placeholder for now until I can get you your own, but I still want you to have it.”

“No,” Beca shakes her head, lifting up her left hand to examine the ring. “Chlo, it’s beautiful.” She pauses then, twisting her body until she can lean up and push a delicate kiss to Chloe’s lips, something Chloe reciprocates with an easy smile. She feels the way Beca’s other arm shakes. “It’s a little big, but— Shit!”

“What? What happened?” Chloe pauses, pulling back to see Beca hastily scrambling for the fallen ring. It has begun to roll into the road, but Beca is hot on its tail, Chloe’s hand still in her own.

Chloe hears the scrape of the ring against the asphalt before she feels the impact of her arm practically tearing from its socket. She doesn’t know when she loses Beca’s hand; one minute it is there, then it isn’t, but Chloe registers the sound of screeching brakes and an unfamiliar shriek before her head whacks against the concrete. Her eyes widen in terror as she sees the unthinkable crumpled on the road in front of the car, before her heart jumps into her throat, and suddenly everything around her grows sickeningly dark.

* * *

There are no words to properly describe the weightless, hazy feeling Chloe is overcome with. She can still hear the faint sound of screeching tires, still feel the hard concrete beneath her, the pure terror of the sight she’d laid eyes on before her lids had unwillingly fluttered shut.

Chloe registers a hard shake against her arm, hears the sound of her name repeated only more irritably each time, before she finally remembers to breathe, and a hard suck of oxygen shocks her back to the present, heart hammering wildly against her chest.

_“Chloe!”_

The voice addressing her is so shrill, so strangely familiar, but it feels incredibly out of place. In fact, _Chloe_ feels out of place. She registers the feeling of warm sunlight sinking into her bare arms, takes note of buzzing background noise, but none of it feels real.

An exasperated sigh causes Chloe’s head to snap in its direction, though the vision before her is so unclear, masked by the salty liquid glazing over her eyes.

“Chloe?” This time, the voice sounds a little more concerned, a little more cautious, and Chloe jumps slightly in response to the soft palm pressing to her forehead. “Chloe, what is going on? Are you okay?”

Although her mouth opens as if she wants to speak, jaw slackening almost uncomfortably, Chloe finds that words fail her.

“Talk to me,” Aubrey says in a softer tone, body turning to almost shield Chloe now. Her pink dress is neatly pressed, blonde hair perfectly styled, but her expression is very much crumpled with evident concern. “Are you having a stroke?”

“I…” Chloe starts, apparently finding some variation of her voice. Her shoulders stiffen, whole body tense and uncomfortable, like she doesn’t belong in it. She doesn’t belong _here_. She doesn’t really understand what she is feeling, but panic begins to set in quickly, and Chloe responds with a strained, choked up, “Where’s Beca?”

“Beca?” Aubrey questions with tightly knitted brows. “Who… Chloe, what is going on?” Her voice lowers slightly, hazel eyes narrowing in on her expression. “Are you drunk right now? Chlo,” she lets out another exasperated sigh, instantly straightening up. “No, you can’t do this today. I need you here and present, this is a huge day for us.”

“What?” is all Chloe manages in response, terrified gaze immediately drifting to their surroundings. She takes in the various organized stalls around them, before her line of sight drops to the table they are standing behind. Fliers with the words _Barden Bellas_ are neatly spread across one corner, and Chloe begins to panic more obviously. “What is…” A shaky hand outstretches to grasp at the top flier, and despite the way her vision has become somewhat clearer, she can’t properly process the information.

A small, unfamiliar group breezes by, and Aubrey quickly snatches the flier from Chloe’s hand with a loud scoff, before instantly holding it out toward the closest person. “Hello, would you be interested in joining our a cappella group?”

Her question, presented bright and hopefully, is met with a judgmental snicker, and Aubrey’s shoulders fall in defeat. She turns to Chloe with a quick snap of her fingers.

“Chloe, I really need your focus right now. It’s up to us to revitalize the Bellas this year. This activities fair is too important for you to ruin our chances at finding new girls,” Aubrey growls, grabbing another handful of fliers and thrusting them into Chloe’s hands, before turning to offer a bright, forced smile to passersby. She continues through gritted teeth. “I knew you’d had a lot to drink last night, but I didn’t think you’d _still_ be suffering today. Please, _please_ snap out of it.”

Chloe only stares down at the fliers held in her shaky hands, body still entirely stiff and uncomfortable. She notes the ends of her red curls, much longer than she has been used to for a long time, and her heart jumps uncomfortably when she registers the distinct lack of an engagement ring, the one previously resting around her ring finger.

“Do you need to go lie down?” Aubrey asks half impatiently, half in a way that shows she really _does_ care, but that she really does not have time for this today.

“No, I—” Chloe begins, uncomfortable lump rising in her throat. She attempts to swallow around it, though her gaze instinctively drifts to the side, heart rate quickening exponentially at the sight approaching their table. “Beca...” she breathes in partial disbelief, though she soon drops the fliers carelessly, before rushes around the booth to quickly grasp Beca by the arm. “Beca, oh my God. I thought you— I don’t know what…”

Although Chloe leans in to wrap her arms around her, she is met with a quick backstep and a look of total and utter confusion.

“Whoa, dude, what are you doing?” Beca responds, horrified. She holds up her arms in retreat, and Chloe only stares at her with a slackened jaw. “How do you know my name?”

Chloe’s eyes widen then, racing heart falling into her stomach. “It’s me,” she squeaks, though somehow, Beca’s evidently bewildered response almost doesn’t surprise her the way it should.

“Sorry, dude…”

Scared, watery blue eyes drift down to the flier Aubrey begrudgingly presses into Beca’s open arms: _Barden Bellas 2012_ , before instinctively lifting, somehow even wider now, back to Beca’s confused expression.

“I don’t even know you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Find me [here](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com).


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